


Lost At Home

by brokendrums



Series: Lost At Home [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Harry gets home from tour but feels terrible so he goes and finds Niall to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost At Home

It's sort of all getting to him. 

He starts to feel it on the plane home, something flickering on the edge of his mind as he tries to dodge jet lag. He moves through the airport, still half drugged from the sleeping pills Zayn slipped him in Hong Kong and he’s ushered into a van with half of the luggage and a couple of stylists. They make it back to their apartments before the others and Harry can’t help but pass out in his bed as soon as he sees it. All the luggage is dumped in his living room because it’s the biggest and most of his clothes are spread out between the five boys anyhow. Louis is somehow chirpy and cheerful and with a quick goodbye like he’s just off to the shop to pick up milk, he’s out the door and already away home to see his mum. Harry doesn’t see the rest of them before his eyelids are drooping and he’s fast asleep again.

  
He wakes up in time for dinner and jumps straight into all the things he had spent the past few weeks imagining. He drinks copious amounts of tea and spends his first night of freedom away from the band, hanging around London and basking in the fact that he's back. He drives up north with a mild hangover the next day and makes it in time to sit down for a full on roast dinner even though it's only Wednesday. His sister makes him mugs of tea and they watch rubbish daytime tv while she writes an essay for uni and he tries to get his head around the time difference. 

  
It's been so long since he's seen rain and he kind of forgets to take a decent coat with him when he goes to hang around with his friends. They laugh at him in ways that make him think of school but he catches a few of them rolling their eyes behind his back and it unsettles him.

  
"What Styles? Your Burberry trench coat shrink in the wash?"

"Want to pop into town and blow a few hundred quid on a posh hoody?"

  
He brushes them off with a smirk and bites his tongue. He tells himself that they're just jealous and not used to him being home and actually hearing their jibes for once. They go wide eyed and slack jawed ten minutes later at the sight of his new car that he blew a few grand on and he feels oddly satisfied when he tells them that there's not enough room for them in the back seat. He gives them a casual wave as he drives off but his hands are shaking and he has to grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white to try and calm down again.

  
He hears his mum talking quietly to his sister in the kitchen when he gets home. He loiters in the hallway and hears them discussing the latest tabloid story about him in the paper. His mum has been dragged into it and been misquoted, his sister is complaining about being pestered by a few younger students at uni for his phone number. There's four stories on the Daily Mail website alone about One Direction and none of them are particularly flattering or truthful, the comments are worse but Harry can’t help himself from reading them. He pushes the door open and they both whip around, smiles plastered onto their faces as if they were talking about George Clooney or the weather. He sees his mother's red rimmed eyes and tries to fight the lump in his throat as he smiles and flicks on the kettle, going along with the charade that they weren‘t talking about him. 

  
It gets worse the next morning. He opens his curtains to see a crowd of teenagers standing on the pavement outside his house. They have signs and cameras. Cans of redbull in their handbags and huddled under umbrellas. One girl seems to have a sleeping bag and she's drinking out of a flask, Harry wonders how long she's planning on staying. There's a car parked across the road and he knows that it's not his neighbours, a shiftly looking bloke in the drivers seat, a reporter no doubt. He gets dressed and checks his twitter - he's trending for some silly reason, he reads the usual mixture of hate and rumours in his mentions and fights the urge to google himself and see what else they're saying about him. His mum makes him boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast and tells him not to worry about them all outside, that they're not really bothering anyone but he can tell that her words are half hearted and that she doesn't really believe them either. His step dad has to escape out the backdoor to go to work and Harry feels guilty for ruining his routine and making everything awkward but the feeling is swallowed by his embarrassment as he hears the chorus to What Makes You Beautiful being sung by all those outside as the door swings shut. 

  
He hangs around home eating everything he can find in the house and annoying his sister as she tries to study. His mum catches him sneaking glances out of the upstairs window at the driveway. 

  
"For God's sake Harry, they're not going to budge until they catch sight of you. They know you're in here. Hiding isn't helping anything!"

  
Harry feels embarrassed again but he takes her advice and grabs his keys. He pauses by the front door, fingers wrapped around the handle. He takes a deep breath and tells himself to smile - it's the first time in months that he's had to plaster on a fake smile and it makes his stomach twist in discomfort. He normally has nothing to complain about and his facial expressions are genuine. His cheeks sting as he steps out onto the path and the girls all see him. Some of them squeal and then remember where they are and try to act cool. The blonde at the end gives a little jump and dance. Sleeping-bag girl nearly passes out. They're lined up as close as they can to the edge of the driveway without technically being on Harry's property and that pisses him off even more. He forces his smile wider and goes straight to his car, waving over at them in greeting before he dives into the drivers seat and pulls out of the driveway as fast as he can without injuring any of them. 

  
There's a few of them still there when he returns after dinner. It's cold and Harry actually remembered to wear a coat this time. He tells them all to go home because it's getting dark soon and don't they have to go home to their parents? Do homework? Eat? The girl with the sleeping bag looks annoyed that he doesn't hug her but Harry can't find the energy to be bothered with her puppy dog eyes and the angry tweets she‘ll no doubt send later. His front door slams on his way in and he feels marginally better. His mum is in the front room by the window watching them, half of her attention on the TV where Caroline Flack is a guest on Celebrity Juice. Harry rolls his eyes, ignoring his sister's smirks as he disappears up to his room to avoid his mum's half embarrassed half disapproving glances every time he'll be inevitably mentioned. Later, he gathers from facebook that there's obviously a party going on at one of his friends’ house and the knowledge that he had been purposefully left out burns in his veins as he reads all the facebook posts about it. He lies back on his bed and stares at the photos of his friends that are bluetacked to the wall. The faces in them seem like strangers now, his included and he lets a drop of self loathing settle in his stomach with all the other feelings he's got twisting in there. He listens to the house as his anger builds, his sister on the phone to someone laughing, his mum in the kitchen clearing up. He peeks outside his curtains and in the yellowy streetlight he sees that all the girls have gone. 

  
He feels restless and unsettled. His childhood room doesn't feel right anymore. He can't get comfortable on the worn mattress or used to having all his old stuff around him. He's used to being pushed from one commitment to another, without having to think about where he's going or what he's doing next, he knows that Paul will just lead him there. He's used to generic hotel rooms, bright lights and everything coming in shades of beige. He's used to having four other people who just get him, know him so well that they could nearly read his mind - not a group of half friends with inside jokes he doesn't get anymore or stories he doesn't know. He feels ill. Even though it's only been a few days he hasn't felt this upset for this length of time in a long while. Normally he would get distracted and forget about it. Louis would make him laugh or Liam would fix whatever was bothering him. Zayn would calm him down and tell him it would all work out and Niall would cuddle him until he was feeling better.

  
He tosses over onto his belly in the middle of his bed. It's not that late, his brain feels like it's on hyper drive so he can't force himself to sleep. He feels itchy, too hot stuck in the house like he's trapped. He wishes he was in his flat in London or still in New York or Sydney. He tries desperately to think of where he could go to get out of the house and make it better. His mum doesn't really understand and he doesn't want to push anymore drama on to her. All of his supposed friends are at this party getting wasted without a thought towards him so he strikes them off the list. He can't go to Doncaster because Louis is dealing with just as much shit as he is, if not more. He's got trending topics, newspaper headlines and a pissed off girlfriend to deal with and he keeps on sending him texts like ' _only twenty twelve year olds camped in the front lawn this morning, stan thinks i should practise my tennis swing on them, backhand is coming along nicely ;) x_ ' so landing there wouldn't exactly be a help to the Tomlinson family. Liam's in Barbados, oblivious to anything that isn't sun, sea and sex and Harry feels an intense jolt of envy. He wishes he had the foresight to book a holiday away and spend a fortnight on a private beach somewhere. It's a Saturday night so Zayn could be God knows where and at a varying degree of soberness because his friends aren't dickheads and actually still like him so Harry dismisses him too. Just as he's trying to figure out where Niall is, his phone dings with a tweet from him saying that he's in Sheffield and before he knows it, he's on his feet, pulling on his coat and stumbling down the stairs. 

  
"Where are you going?" His mum calls out to him from the kitchen. 

"Out." Harry responds, fingers already curling around his car keys. "Don't wait up." It comes out ruder than he intended but he assures himself that his mum has had her fair share of teenage angst out of him during puberty and that she knows not to take it personally. He's in the car, ipod cranked up loud and he's out of the village before he's texting Niall asking him what hotel he's staying in.

  
He's nearly made it to Sheffield before he replies and Harry wants to simultaneously kill him and laugh at how long it took for him to get back to him. He gives him the name of some hotel that Harry has a vague recollection of and a very long jumble of words that Harry can translate as Niall text for 'What's up?' He bullshits a reply about being in the area and wanting to meet him and Niall tells him that he's at the hotel bar. Harry's parking on a double yellow line ten minutes later and stumbling into the bright lobby of the hotel. His hands are shaking again and his breathing is kind of fucked up but he doesn't pay any attention to it, instead focusing on finding Niall. He sees him as soon as he pushes through the double doors to the bar. Familiar tufts of blonde hair and the laugh that Harry would know anywhere. He's at a table in the corner, Harry feels an embarrassed flush as he recognises Niall's dad and a few friends from home. He knows that they decided to come visit him instead of Niall flying over to Ireland. He feels guilty for ruining Niall's time with his family and his steps stutter as he rethinks going over, it would be so easy to just climb back into his car and drive back home but at the same time the thought of going home makes him sick. His dad spies him though and nudges Niall and he's standing up before Harry can run away. Harry's feet kick into action again and he sort of staggers the last remaining steps until he lands in Niall's arms, his knees buckling slightly when Niall pulls him into a hug. 

  
"What's wrong?" Niall asks him quietly. He's warm and Harry wants to bury himself in his soft caring voice and soft skin. He knows instantly that he made the right choice in coming to see him. Niall can have the instant effect of making him feel better. "What's happened?" 

  
Harry doesn't have to look up to know that Niall's frowning down at him. He can hear the concern in his voice and Niall's speaking in a tone that Harry knows he won't be able to bullshit to. Instead he lets his face bury itself further into Niall's shoulder, the warmth of his skin against his cheek and security of his arms holding him tight. 

  
"I don't know." Harry answers honestly and it comes out quiet and strained, muffled into Niall's cardigan. He can hear murmuring at the table and Harry knows that they've been hugging for too long for it to be passed off as nothing out of the ordinary. He knows that Niall's friends respect the fact that they're all very touchy feely people anyway but he also realises that his entrance has been a little on the dramatic side to still be considered normal even for them. Niall is rocking him slightly, one hand moving in soothing circles up his back, the other secure around his waist and Harry thinks he could probably be lulled to sleep like this. 

  
"I'll go get another round in." Niall's dad tells them all, standing up and squeezing past Niall and Harry to get to the bar. Another voice agrees and offers help, asking Harry what he wants. Niall answers for him and manoeuvres him into the booth and sits him down. Harry keeps his eyes trained on the grain of the table, embarrassment flaring hot inside him as he realises he's just drove for an hour and a half to hug his best friend and the fact that it actually made him feel a hundred times better. He feels like some hormonal girl. Niall squashes in beside him, one hand curling around his pint and the other tangling in Harry's fingers. His dad comes back with a few glasses and he slides a drink over to Harry with a soft smile. He spots their hands but makes no comment, his eyes sliding up to glance between them. 

  
"Anything to be worried about?" He asks lightly because as much as he knows it isn't his business, he wants to know if he should be concerned. He knows how close the boys all are and when Niall joined One Direction, he basically gained four extra sons. Harry feels his cheeks warm as he blushes and tries to think up an excuse but Niall just shrugs and tightens his grip on Harry's hand. 

"Missed me too much." Niall jokes light-heartedly causing his dad to snort in disbelief but Harry's stomach twists because he knows its true. He reaches out and gulps down his drink - anything to make him relax. He listens to the conversation around him more than he contributes to it. Most of it goes over his head in a jumble of too thick accent and slang he doesn't really understand, instead he focuses on the heat of Niall's hand and the burn of alcohol as it slides into his veins. 

  
They stumble to bed shortly after three. Harry feels drunk, too much beer in his belly. Niall helps him unbutton his shirt and tugs him under the duvet beside him in a fit of giggles. Harry's either too drunk or he wants it too much because he doesn't care that there's two other people that he's only met a handful of times in the room as well. They move about silently trying to get comfortable but Harry's hands linger on Niall's hips too long and Niall's fingertips ghost across Harry's collarbone before they settle. They've done this before when they've been drunk or really upset. They end up in bed together and they let their hands roam about, smooth over skin and make each other shiver. Sometimes they'll kiss but they've never really went further than that. Harry privately thinks that it's Niall's way of trying to comfort his friends because he knows he's done it to Zayn a few times who has been just as confused as Harry normally is when it happens. Harry knows it's fucked up but the boundaries between all their friendships are so blurred that it doesn't shock him that this has become a bit of a norm within the group. It's just another aspect of Niall's personality.  

  
"D'you wanna talk bout 't?" Niall murmurs to him once the others' breathing even out and it's obvious that it's only him and Harry awake. His hand comes up to land on Harry's side and he starts to massage it softly.   

"I dunno." Harry responds. His face is buried into the dip between the two pillows and he could feel Niall's hot breath on his eyelids. "I guess home isn't home anymore. Everything’s moved on while I was away and I was expecting it to be the same." 

  
Harry is surprised at his words but the beer had made everything in his mind spill out of his mouth without a second thought. Niall makes a soft sound encouraging him to continue as his other hand slips under Harry's neck and starts to knead at his shoulder.  

"Everything was just irritating." Harry mumbles, sleep catching up on him but he angles his head so Niall's hands can slip to the nape of his neck more easily. "It wasn't like when it's with you guys. It doesn’t feel right when I’m away. I miss you."

"I'm a very missable person." Niall smirks, his words only slurring a bit. He sighs softly and Harry finally feels the wet of Niall's lips as he kisses him, first on the forehead and then as he trails down his face. Harry doesn't want to admit to himself that he had been waiting and hoping Niall would do this but his hand reaches out to pull him closer and Niall gets the unspoken intent anyway. "Don't worry Harry. It'll all be back to normal soon enough and you won't have a moment to breathe. But we'll all be there and make it better." 

  
Harry made a half coherent noise of agreement against Niall's lips and finally pulls him into a kiss. It's long and slow, in reality he's too tired and drunk to do much else but lazily trace at Niall's lips with his tongue. Niall rolls over a bit to deepen the kiss, sighing into his mouth and running his fingers up into Harry's hair. Harry can taste the beer on Niall's tongue and something pleasant and sweet underneath. Harry doesn't know how long they kiss but there's a faint greyish dawn slipping through the slit in the curtains and he can hear a few birds chirping when Niall finally pulls away. His eyes flick over to the other bed to make sure everyone who should be asleep is still asleep before he turns back to Harry. They're both breathing a little heavy and Harry knows that if he allows Niall to kiss him like that again he'll want to push it further. He's pretty sure Niall knows that too as his eyes flicker across Harry's face and he leans back, both of them not acknowledging the fact that they're both half hard. It's never went further than this and Harry isn't sure if he wants it to, he knows that this is just Niall's fucked up way of being a good friend.

"Thanks." Harry whispers, not really sure what he's thanking him for but Niall is already snuggling into him and falling asleep.

  
Harry wakes up a few hours later up to a camera flash and muffled laughter. He blinks sleepily up at Niall's friends from home and groans once he spots the phone in his hand. Niall is sprawled across Harry's stomach, his foot hooked around Harry's knee. It wasn't the first time he had woken up tangled in Niall's limbs and he supposed it probably won't be the last.

"I'm guessing that's going on twitter?" Niall asks, his eyes still firmly shut. Harry can't help but laugh at his unamused tone, Niall licks at his face in retaliation.

"Go brush your teeth." Harry orders him, shoving his face away. Niall's friends make faces at Niall's behaviour and Harry has to remind himself that Niall probably isn't as tactile with anyone else outside the band. He kicks his way out from underneath the duvet and rubs his fingers self consciously over his lips, they're slightly swollen and he hopes it's not too obvious that he spent a good hour kissing his best mate in bed last night. Behind him, Niall complains loudly of how sore his head is and how hungover he feels for a few more minutes before he rolls out of bed and gets dressed too. Harry has to borrow a spare shirt from Niall and for a split second Harry feels content in the false comfort of a hotel room with room service for breakfast and fancy elevators and living out of a suitcase. 

  
"Are you going to be ok?" Niall asks him quietly an hour later as they slip out the back door of the hotel and make their way towards where Harry had parked the previous night. "I can get a later train back to London if you want to talk about anything more. I probably didn't give the most sound advice last night." 

Harry laughs because this will be the only reference to their actions last night. Niall rarely talks about it and Harry thinks that it's because he's embarrassed and doesn't want to start a discussion that could affect the band. So Harry goes along with it and just shakes his head. "No I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Harry's actually being honest, he does actually feel better but deep down there's still a niggling in his gut. He pulls Niall into a tight hug, thanking him quietly before climbing into his car and going home.

There are more fans outside his house when he returns and they all step forward excitedly as soon as they see his car. A few of them have twitter apps open, flashing the picture that was tweeted this morning at him, cooing over the fact that he was obviously wearing one of Niall's polo shirts but Harry just smiles at them, reaching for a sharpie before quickly shooing them off his driveway. 

His mum doesn't mention his night away or the fact that he's wearing a shirt that obviously wasn't bought for him. His sister shows her the photo of them anyway and she just smiles at him over Sunday lunch. He leaves his sister off at the train station so she can go back to uni and hand in her essays. He hugs her and she apologises quietly in his ear in case it was anything she did that made him upset. His mum does much the same the next day and Harry assumes that they've had a long girly conversation over a few bottles of wine about him while he was gone. He hangs around home and sees his friends for a couple more days before he finally cracks and drives to Bradford to pick up Zayn before heading to London. They force Louis to do the same and all four of them are finally back in the city by the time Liam's flight lands. 

  
"What are you all doing here?" Liam asks as he comes through arrivals pushing a trolley full of luggage. Niall and Zayn crack up at Liam's obvious sunburn but he ignores them and turns to the rest of the boys. "You realise this will be all over twitter? I'm surprised you haven't caused some sort of security catastrophe. Does Paul know you're doing this?"

Harry shrugs and pulls him into a hug cutting him off before Liam can really start to scold them. Danielle laughs at them as they all pile in, murmurs of 'welcome back' and 'i really missed everyone' and 'let's never have a break ever again' and 'Liam I can't bear to be without you ever again'. Harry laughs along with the rest of them and finally for the first time in a fortnight Harry feels home. 

  



End file.
